


The Other Side of the Door

by thenspokethethunder



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Green Gables Fables
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, spoilers for Anne of the Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:45:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenspokethethunder/pseuds/thenspokethethunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Two scenes between Anne & Gilbert, because we were all not-so-secretly hoping that Ruby's death would bring them together again. Both take place before Anne's recent video, Remembering.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Other Side of the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Two scenes between Anne & Gilbert, because we were all not-so-secretly hoping that Ruby's death would bring them together again. Both take place before Anne's recent video, Remembering.

Time didn't feel real in the hospital waiting room. Gilbert's eyes stayed on the television screen in the corner, which was playing some weird reality show. He tried to force his mind to focus there as well, but it wandered. Every so often, his glance flickered to the door to the intensive care unit. Ruby was somewhere on the other side of that door. 

There was an analog clock over the front desk, which was Gilbert's only tether to reality at this point. His phone had died hours ago. Josie had run home to get her phone charger, snacks, and coffee. Spencer, tired of pacing around the waiting room, had pulled some strings and gotten into Ruby's room in intensive care, along with Ruby's parents. Gilbert was alone in an ugly chair, with no connection to the outside world, no sense of time passing, and his hope slowly draining out of him. 

“Gilbert?” a voice to his left said nervously. He blinked rapidly, wondering if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open and was having some kind of cruel hallucination. But he turned to look and she was really there. It was Anne. He hadn't talked to her since the uncomfortable afternoon when she had ambush-vlogged them hanging out. He stood up to greet her. “I've been texting you all day,” she said. “How is she?” 

“Sorry, my phone died,” he explained. “And I don't know, I'm not allowed in. Just family. And Spencer, apparently.” 

“Oh,” said Anne, looking forlorn. “Are you just... hanging out here?” 

“Yeah. I... just need to be here.” 

He gestured to the seat next to his and sat down once more. Anne perched awkwardly in her chair, glancing at the program on the television but not taking it in. “I didn't realize how sick she was. Did you know?” 

“Yeah. She told me some things. I was hoping she was just scared and it wasn't as serious as she thought, but Spencer filled me in on the rest.” 

“She seemed so... _Ruby_ when I saw her last,” Anne said, shaking her head. “I mean, a little quieter and more... grown-up, maybe but still. Just Ruby.” 

He exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples. “It just-” 

Anne watched him. “What?” she asked, when he did not continue. 

“I just think it's pointless to keep going on about how she seemed fine. Yeah, she seemed like herself, she seemed happy, she didn't act the way someone who is dying ought to act – when what we both really mean is that it doesn't make any _sense_.” Anne did not speak, but kept on looking at him with the same intent gaze. Gilbert avoided her eyes and kept going. “It doesn't make sense that she's... dying,” he said, struggling with the word. “You know? I try to think about it, to comprehend it, and it's like my brain just stops. It doesn't add up in my head that she might not belong in the world anymore.” 

He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. There was such a depth of sympathy in them that Gilbert felt overwhelmed. He had never seen her look at him that way before. He had cataloged every single look Anne Shirley had ever cast upon him – Scornful, Amused, Joyful, Pouting, Mischievous, and on a few very rare occasions, a look he couldn't name that had filled him with bad ideas and, he now knew, completely unfounded hopes. But she had never looked at him like this – like she saw every thought and fear and doubt inside his head and understood them. It dawned on Gilbert that Anne did understand. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. Of all his friends, Anne was maybe the only one who knew what came next. Not just the worry and the waiting, but what it was like... after.  
She put a hand on his arm. “I know,” she said, her voice low. Gilbert averted his eyes again so she could surreptitiously wipe away some tears falling off the end of her nose. Gilbert still felt the weight of her hand on his arm after she removed it, and he wished he had taken her hand in his, or patted it, or something else other than just sit there. He also wished she hadn't touched him at all and that she never would again. Being with Anne was always like that – he always existed in five million different parallel universes when they were together. A universe for everything he wished he had said or done differently, or for everything he wished was different. A universe where he could hold her hand without it being weird. Another universe, where he never told her he loved her and nothing changed. Yet another, more ideal universe where she was not dating Roy Gardner and Ruby wasn't dying in a hospital bed while he watched episode after episode of bad reality tv. 

They sat a few moments in silence, both of them turning their attention to the screen. They both looked whenever the door opened, in case it was Spencer or Mr. or Mrs. Gillis with news. “I can see why Ruby hated it here. Hates it here,” Gilbert corrected himself in a hurry. “In the hospital.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I mean... nobody wants to be here. Everybody is just waiting. Waiting for their name to be called, then waiting for the doctor. Waiting for results. Waiting to go home. Or waiting to... die. Then there's people like us, totally helpless, waiting for someone to come through that door and tell us something we probably don't want to hear anyway.” 

“Someday you'll be on the other side of the door,” Anne said. “And then you won't be totally helpless. You'll be helping people. Saving them.”

“Yeah. I just wish I was a doctor right now. Not that I could help Ruby if I was a heart surgeon, obviously. Though I guess if we're making wishes I might as well wish to be a doctor who could save Ruby. I guess I just feel like it's all well and good that _someday_ I could save somebody's life, but right now is when it really counts and I can't do anything. But in a lot of ways, all of this has reminded me of why I'm doing this and it means that much more to me now.” He blinked. “Sorry, I'm rambling. It's probably the sleep deprivation.”

“No... it's fine.” Anne said quietly. “And I'm glad. Not about the sleep deprivation. I just meant... it's important to have passion for what you do. I mean, I guess you already did. But everyone loses sight of their passion once in a while. And you were there for me when I almost gave up on writing, so... I'm not going to let you give up on what you love either.” 

If Gilbert stared at her a little too long after she finished talking, maybe it could also be blamed on sleep deprivation. It was Anne's turn to look away now, and when she did, the moment ended and Gilbert cleared his throat. 

“Well. I was actually thinking more along the lines of an origin story. I leave this hospital waiting room and my tragic back story motivates me to become the greatest doctor in the world and I get some strange...medical.... powers and become a supervillain.”

Anne snorted. “You're going to be a supervillain doctor who saves people?”

“That's exactly what I'm going to be, watch me. And I'll have a lair. Like an underground hospital lair.” 

“That's ridiculous.”

“It's not ridiculous, it's awesome.” 

“You'd probably be the kind of supervillain who starts out really evil but has a change of heart and becomes one of the good guys.” 

“Fine, as long as I still get to have a lair after I reform.”

She shook her head, her mouth twisting into a smirk he recognized, and he leaned back in his chair to watch her. Some of the hope that had been running dry all day started to trickle back and make itself felt – he didn't even know if it was hope for anything in particular. It was too terrifying to hope for things, he had learned. All you could really do was go after things you wanted and work really really hard until you dropped dead. Ambition was safe enough. Sure, it could turn you into a crazy villainous monster, drunk on his own genius, but it kept you going. It woke you up in the morning. It moved your eyes across the pages of your textbooks. Ambition smelled like success. And coffee.

Hope smelled like whatever shampoo Anne used. It sounded like the hinges on the swinging hospital door. Hope let you believe that stubborn redheads might magically change their minds, and that the Worst Possible Thing was not currently happening on the other side of a door while you sat in utter uselessness. Hope led you blindfolded through the labyrinth, holding onto a thread, then it cut you loose and left you to face the minotaur of despair....Ugh. Gilbert definitely needed sleep. His metaphors were getting sloppy. But still, he thought, as Anne also leaned back in her chair, her shoulder a few inches from his - Hope sucked. 

\----- 

Gilbert tried not to think about how a coffin lid was another kind of door that he couldn't go through. He tried not to think about how Ruby would have hated how somber and serious everyone looked, standing around her grave. And he tried not to cough too much during the service. 

There was a reception afterward, with cake and coffee and lots of small talk. Gilbert was grateful for the opportunity to catch up with Jane and Josie and some of his other Avonlea friends whom he had neglected during his time at home – it had mostly been spent hanging out with Ruby. He realized with a little amusement as he greeted Nate and Will, that he was included in the little club of Guys Ruby Dated For A While. But that seemed like an odd thing to bond over at a funeral reception. Gilbert spent most of the time hanging out with Spencer, who was doing... as well as could be expected, Gilbert assumed. Yes, he had known Ruby and been her friend for longer, but Spencer seemed to have been dealt the crappier hand.

Anne was there, of course. She was currently across the room, hugging Josie, which seemed pretty noteworthy. The two girls let go of each other and Gilbert was even more surprised to see Josie putting her hands to her eyes and wiping away tears while Anne talked to her. It was so unfamiliar and strange a sight that he didn't realize he was staring until Anne caught his eye. Oops. Before he knew what was happening, she was making her way across the room.

“I want to do something for Ruby,” she said when she reached him. “I don't know how to help Mr. and Mrs. Gillis. They have each other, and Ruby's sisters, and Josie, I don't think they need my help anyway. But I want to do something. I want to make something for her. A way to remember her and... and honor her.” 

“Like what?” Gilbert was pretty sure he already knew the answer. 

Anne took a deep breath. “I want to make a video. Of all of us. Ruby's friends, I mean. All of us talking to a camera, telling her what she meant to us, and... saying goodbye.” 

“Anne,” he sighed. “Another video?” Were all his worst days going to be captured on film and immortalized on the internet? 

“I know,” she said. “I know it's not a lot. But I have so many memories of Ruby on my channel. My videos show all the important things that have happened in the last few years. Everyone I love has been in them at some point. And it just seems fitting to remember her there.” She shrugged. “People are always saying the internet is forever. A video in her memory will last longer than a couple of speeches a a funeral. It's not a lot, but it's what I have to give her.” 

“Okay,” he said. “I'm in. I don't know what I'll say exactly, but I'll do it. Fair warning, though: I might cry.” 

“Please,” Anne said, with the merest trace of a laugh. “I've been crying all day. I won't judge.” An awkward silence fell between them until she asked, suddenly: “How are you doing?” 

“Tired.” He knew that wasn't the answer to the question she was really asking, but it was true. He was tired. He had spent one sleepless night and most of the following day waiting in the hospital, and then Spencer and Mrs. Gillis had convinced him to go home. He ended up crashing at Fred's house for the next few days, to be closer to the hospital. He asked Spencer to text him when it seemed like she was close to the end – so he could try and be there. But it happened while she slept. There was no final hour of crisis. No last words or goodbyes. And he had been so tired ever since. Maybe grief made you tired. Or maybe it was whatever bug he was coming down with, on top of the grief, on top of everything else. 

“You should take a power nap,” Anne said. 

“Yeah. Or just hibernate for the rest of the school year.” 

“No! It's going to be spring soon!” Anne protested. “You don't want to hibernate when she sun comes out. Everything will be lovely and green and the flowers will bloom and everything will be new. Animals hibernate in the winter because that's when everything is gloomy and barren. You don't want to go to sleep just when everything gets beautiful again, do you?” She looked earnestly up into his face. “Everything is going to be beautiful again, Gilbert. I promise.” 

He nodded, hoping she couldn't tell how affected he was. He wasn't much of a poetry guy, but when Anne talked so sincerely about sunshine and flowers and beautiful things, he felt disconcertingly mushy. 

She gave him the briefest of hugs and turned to leave. 

“Hey, Shirley,” he called her back. “It's more than you think it is. The video, I mean. It kind of sounds like something Ruby would do for any of us. She was always trying to bring her friends together. Make people feel loved and important.”

Anne smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “She was really good at that.”

“You're good at that too.” He was almost positive that Anne Shirley blushed at the praise. Buoyed a little, he continued. “And if this video turns out well, then I might even consider hiring you to make a video eulogy for my funeral.” 

Anne rolled her eyes. “I appreciate that, but I really doubt I'll still be making videos when that time comes.” She paused by the door. “Thanks, Gil.” 

“Any time.”

Then she was gone, and the door clicked behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP, Ruby. <3 Her subplot was heart-wrenching and beautifully done. Also, prayer circle for Gilbert who was already not having a very fun year. He doesn't deserve this.


End file.
